[Illustration: HIGH STREET, GUILDFORD.]
Crossing over the Thames to the Surrey side, we proceed southward to
that vast chalk-measure which, like a miniature mountain-wall, divides
the watershed draining into that river from the Weald of Sussex and of
Kent. This chalky hill is here and there breached by the valley of a
stream, and through it the Wey and the Mole, to which we have heretofore
referred, flow northward to join the current of the Thames. In the gap
formed by each there is a town, Guildford standing alongside the Wey,
and Dorking on the Mole. Both develop magnificent scenery on the flanks
of the chalk-ranges that surround them; and we will now go about thirty
miles south-west from London and visit Guildford, whose origin is
involved in the mystery that surrounds the early history of so many
English towns. It was a royal manor in the days of King Alfred, being
granted to his nephew, and it was here a few years before the Norman
Conquest that the aetheling AElfred was captured. Harold, the son of
Canute, wished to destroy him to secure the succession to the throne. He
forged a letter purporting to be from his mother, Queen Emma, inviting
AElfred to come to England, and sent his minister Godwine forward, who
met and swore allegiance to AElfred, lodging him at Guildford, and most
of his comrades in separate houses there. In the night Harold's
emissaries suddenly appeared, slew his comrades, and carried AElfred off
to Ely, where he was loaded with fetters, and, being tried by some sort
of tribunal, was blinded and then put to death. The monks of Ely
enshrined his body, and of course miracles were wrought by it. The
castle was built on the Wey after the Norman Conquest, and Henry II.
made it a park and royal residence, so that it was long called the
King's Manor. In Charles I.'s time it was granted to the Earl of
Annandale. The situation of Guildford is picturesque; the chalk-range is
narrowed to a line of steep, ridgy hills almost as straight as a wall
and severed by the valley of the Wey. This pretty stream escapes from
the Weald to the southward between the Hog's Back on the west and Albury
Down on the east, the valley narrowing so as to form a natural gateway
just where the river emerges. A bridge was built here, and this
determined the site of the town, which straggles up the Hog's Back and
the Down, and also spreads out in the broadening valley of the emerging
river. High up in the hills that make the eastern slope of the valley is
the old gray castle-keep, with an ancient church-tower lower down and a
new church by the waterside. From the bridge runs straight up this hill
the chief thoroughfare of the town, High Street. The shapeless ruins of
the old castle, the keep alone being kept in good condition, are not far
away from the upper part of this street, crowning an artificial mound
encompassed by what once was a ditch, but now is chiefly a series of
gardens. The ancient church-tower, part way down the hill, is dedicated
to St. Mary, but has been shorn of its original proportions in order to
widen a street. This was done, we are told, for the convenience of
George IV., who used to pass in a coach along this street on his way
from London to Brighton. The tower is low and unassuming, and is
supposed to date from the time of King Stephen. The new church of St.
Nicholas stands by the river, and Guildford also possesses another
church built of brick. None of these churches have spires, and therefore
some local wit has written,
"Poor Guildford, proud people;
Three churches--no steeple."
The High Street climbs the hill past many quaint buildings, particularly
the old town-hall, where the hill is somewhat less steep. Its upper
stories project beyond the lower, being supported by carved beams, and
the town-clock hangs over the street. Abbot's Hospital, built by
Guildford's most noted townsman, George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury,
is also in this street. He was born in a humble cottage, and the legend
tells us that his mother, before the event, dreamed that if she could
eat a pike she would have a son who would be a great man. She was unable
to buy the fish anywhere, but, drawing a pailful of water from the
river, to her surprise found a pike in it. When George was born the tale
was told, and several distinguished people offered to become his
sponsors. They gave him a good education, and he graduated at Balliol
College, Oxford, and was made Dean of Westminster. He was one of the
revisers of the Scriptures who prepared the revision in the seventeenth
century, was made a bishop, and in 1611 Archbishop of Canterbury. His
brother was Bishop of Salisbury, and another brother Lord Mayor of
London. He was a great hunter, as were most ecclesiastics at that time,
and in 1621, when shooting at a buck, his arrow accidentally pierced the
arm of a gatekeeper, who soon bled to death. The archbishop was
horror-stricken, settled an annuity upon the widow, and to the close of
his life observed Tuesday, the day of the accident, as a weekly fast.
This occurrence raised a hot dispute in the Church as to whether the
archbishop, by having blood on his hands, had become incapable of
discharging the duties of his sacred office. He retired to his hospital
at Guildford while the inquiry was conducted, was ultimately
exonerated, and in 1625 died. This hospital is built around a small
quadrangle, and in its gateway-tower the unfortunate "King Monmouth" was
lodged on his last journey from Sedgemoor to London. Abbot, according to
the inscription on the walls, founded this charity for "a master, twelve
brethren, and eight sisters"--all to be unmarried and not less than
sixty years of age, and chosen from Guildford, preference to be given to
"such as have borne office or been good traders in the town, or such as
have been soldiers sent, and who have ventured their lives or lost their
blood for their prince and country." The number of inmates is now
increased, the endowment having accumulated. Guildford used to maintain
the piety of its people by requiring that all should attend church and
listen to a sermon, or else be fined a shilling. Over on the other side
of the valley, on a grassy spur protruding from the Hog's Back, are the
ruins of St. Catharine's Chapel, built in the fourteenth century. The
local tradition tells that this and St. Martha's Chapel, on an adjacent
hill, were built by two sister-giantesses, who worked with a single
hammer, which they flung from hill to hill to each other as required.
St. Catharine's Chapel long since fell in ruins, and not far away on the
slope, St. Catharine's Spring flows perennially. On Albury Down is a
residence of the Duke of Northumberland, Albury Park, laid out in the
seventeenth century by John Evelyn, famous for his devotion to rural
beauties, and the residence during the present century of Henry
Drummond, the banker, politician, and theologian, the most caustic
critic of his time in Parliament, and the great promoter of the Church
of the Second Advent.
[Illustration: RUINS OF ST. CATHARINE'S CHAPEL, FROM THE RIVER.]